Port Vila, on the large island of Efaté, is the capital of Vanuatu. Whilst there are some places where a yacht can anchor, the most accessible locations are too deep, so most take a mooring in Paray Bay. The centre of town is a short walk away, offering a dose of the metropolis in marked contrast to the places we'd been to so far in Vanuatu. We spent a few days there, completing our clearance with Customs and Immigration, catching up on general chores, provisioning, patching our old lightweight genoa, refilling the gas bottles and repairing the outboard, which had been suffering from water and dirt in the fuel lines and carburettor. It was also an opportunity for some pleasant socialising with other cruising folk during happy hour at the waterfront bar.

We spent a day exploring the town, including the upper road where most of the administrative buildings are located, including the smart new House of Parliament. The most intriguing building we saw was the little blue-and-white painted French-Vietnamese church, called "Porte du Ciel". We visited the museum which has some impressive exhibits such as 3,000 year old pieces of Lapita pottery, carved wood "tamtams" (slit drums), wooden statues of ancestral figures and exotic head-dresses, but the presentation was very jaded and several of the exhibits seemed to be missing. We asked about the cultural films that we'd read would be showing, and a curator sat us down in his office and ran a video of the country's road to independence - sort of interesting but not quite what we'd hoped to see. For an example of Bislama, the national language, a visit to the gents' lavatory is a must. A sign reads: "Plis taem yu pispis I go insaed long toilet, make sure yu no spillim pispis blong yu go olbaot. Thank yu tumas long andastanding blong yu." I'll leave the reader to attempt a translation!

We set off late one afternoon for an 85 mile overnight sail to Lamen Bay, on Epi Island. After an unexpectedly windy night, we went ashore and were greeted by Addis Jack, who, introducing himself as the local guide, offered to take us - for a small fee - on a tour of the village and his own property. We arranged to come back in the afternoon after we had been snorkelling from the dinghy - our first swim of the season. We had hoped to see Bondas, a dugong that allows people to swim near him, but had to be content with some magnificent turtles, including one with a shell about 1.2m long. When we were back on Egret, a dug-out canoe was paddled over to us by a man with his two young sons. It is debateable whether we or they were the most curious about the other.

Addis lead us through the village and introduced us to his elderly father and daughter, explaining that his wife was in New Zealand helping with a kiwi project. Addis' brother is a chief, and the family owns a large tract of land which their forebears had won in battle after coming over from a small island just offshore. He borrowed a machete - smiling and reassuring us that he meant no harm - and took us up to the top of a hill where his house is, giving us tips on the use of plants for medicinal purposes along the way, such as scraping off soft bark to treat a wound, or pounding the leaves to make a potion. He cut down some huge pamplemousse (the name all the islanders use for grapefruits), oranges and avocado pears for us to take home, which all proved to be delicious. Afterwards we were given refreshments of a fruit platter carefully laid out on a table outside a cabin that he had built to take in guests. Whilst walking back to the beach, a small group that we took to be tourists came past in a truck, but we were told that they were in fact Australian doctors who nobly run occasional clinics on the islands.

We set off again next morning, and initially had a lively sail with big seas in the gap between the islands, but the wind died as we got into the lee of Ambryn. The island is surrounded by low, grey cliffs, with tree covered ridges and high mountains beyond - all covered in dense cloud. There are two active volcanoes, and above them was a pinkish-orange hue from the sulphurous gasses. We heard that acid rain is a problem for the growers of crops in some parts of the island. Gentle rain produced a perfect rainbow over the coast as we approached the anchorage off Ranon Village. We were alone in the bay apart from a few passing canoes, but a couple of hours after dark we heard the sound of a chain rattling and looked out to see a brightly lit vessel anchoring nearby. Long after we had turned in, we heard another commotion. This came from a small inter-island supply vessel holding station off the beach while several small boats ferried people and goods to and fro. It continued to be a very disturbed night as our boat cavorted around from the effects of violent bullets of wind coming down from the hills.

Daybreak revealed a very sleek 64m motor yacht on which the crew were already cleaning and polishing and preparing the "toys" (i.e. the jetskis, canoes and paddle boards etc.) for the owner and guests. A seaplane landed which caused great excitement for the children who rushed down to the beach to watch. A RIB then transferred some passengers and supplies from the plane to the yacht. We never saw anyone from the yacht go ashore or communicate with the local people. When we landed our dinghy on the beach, about thirty boys ran over to help pull it up and then happily posed for a photo. Several were carrying knives, and one or two started prodding the inflatable fabric out of curiosity until we told them to stop! We were welcomed by Geoffrey, who told us that he was the new guide, having taken over from his uncle who had very recently died. Many of the islands are known for unique ceremonies, and here we wanted to see a "Rom" dance. He made a mobile phone call to the chief of Fanla, a "custom village" allowed to hold these dances, and fixed it up for the same afternoon. (The wonders of modern communications: almost every village now has a Digicel mast within range!)

Geoffrey led us on a brisk forty minute walk inland along a rough and at times steep track. There were good views down to the bay where Egret was looking very small alongside the super-yacht. Chief John showed us round his village which was traditionally built with most of the houses standing on high stilts, all looking very spick and span. The performance took place in the central square, where there were several enormous slit drums (tamtams) with monstrous heads, carved from tree trunks, placed at one side. We felt like real guests of honour as all this was being put on just for the two of us, although quite a few villagers came along to watch as well. Eight male dancers dressed only in nambas with broad belts and a bunch of leaves to cover their bottoms stood in the middle. One with a bushy white beard looked very old; another carried a small drum to beat the time. Four more, one at each corner of the group, wore an enveloping cloak of banana leaves and an exotic mask rather like a bird's head, and carried a long basket-work cone, used as baton. The group chanted or whooped and shuffled or stamped their feet to a variety of rhythms. The ceremony, which traditionally has secret and magic connotations, depicts the harvest of yams. Afterwards, one of the dancers gave a demonstration of sand drawing: scratching an illustration in one continuous movement without lifting the stick off the ground. Geoffrey, who had been a very agreeable guide, had expressed an interest in seeing our boat, so when we got back we invited him on board for a cup of tea and gave him a spare warp to moor up his cow!